Tina watched as Queenie put the finishing touches on their dinner, and set the table for three. Jacob was not staying with them today, so there was no need to set out additional appliances.
The tantalizing, savory, smell of beef stew wafted into the air and tickled Tina's nose. She inhaled deeply, admiring Queenie's skill as a cook.
"Teen, can you get Newt? Dinner's ready," Queenie said.
"Sure," Tina replied as she stepped out of the kitchen.
She made her way down the hallway, and paused at the door of where Newt was staying. It was closed. Tina raised her hand, and rapped gently on the door with her knuckles. There was no reply. Figuring that Newt was too wrapped up in writing his second manuscript to have noticed the sound, she cracked the door open and peeked in.
"Newt, dinner's ready–" she stopped. There was no one there.
However, his case, which was resting on the floor, was unlocked. Tina walked over to it, and tentatively flipped open the lid, not sure how he would react when she entered his shed without an invitation. Deciding that dinner was more important, and that Newt was proably too preoccupied with his creatures to have realized the time, she stepped into the case and climbed down the ladder.
Newt was not in his shed, either. Tina proceeded to open the shed door, and she stepped outside. She combed the areas that were the closest to the shed, but there was no sign of the Magizoologist.
"Newt?" she called. The only response was the chirping of the Occamies that she was standing next to. Slightly worried now, she branched out further, still looking for Newt. "Newt?" she repeated.
Tina suddenly heard a pattering of pawsteps behind her. She turned around to see Dougal running towards her, making a series of quick, snuffling sounds. The Demiguise approached her, and reached up to tug on her hand. Bewildered, Tina looked down at him.
"Dougal?" she said, "what is it?"
The Demiguise was beckoning frantically for her to follow him, and Tina, after hesitating for a second, set off after the creature. Dougal was running full pelt through the case, and Tina was following him as quickly as she could. Various habitats flashed by them, with the creatures wandering about in them. She saw the bright magenta flash of a Fwooper swoop by, and Billywigs darted around in front of her, but she paid them no attention. Dougal seemed to be very worried, and Tina wondered what could have possibly happened to make the Demiguise so distressed, and why he hadn't gone to Newt instead.
They were running toward the habitats with the animals that were more dangerous, Tina realized, and a twinge of unease was stirring inside of her. At last, Dougal skidded to an abrupt halt in front of the Nundu habitat, and Tina almost crashed into him. The silver-haired creature was pointing at something that was leaning on a boulder in front of the cave where the Nundu was prowling.
Tina took a wary step toward, making sure to keep one eye on the Nundu, who had its mane puffed up. With a gasp of horror, she realized that the thing by the boulder was Newt. He lay crumpled in a heap on the ground, and with another jolt of panic, she saw that the front of his shirt was ripped and bloody. Tina rushed forward, forgetting about the Nundu in her haste. She ignored it as it growled, barely registering the sound. Fear pulsed through her, and one word was repeating itself in her mind. Newt. Newt. Newt.
Tina dropped to the bloodstained ground in front of him. Newt's eyes were closed, and they appeared to be flickering wildly. His button-up, which was usually neat and crisp, was torn and mangled by the claws of the Nundu, and blood was flowing steadily from a deep set of scratches. Newt's face was sweaty, and his mop of messy hair clung damply to his forehead.
"Newt?!" Tina whispered, horrified.
The British Magizoologist didn't stir.
"Newt!" she screamed, her voice cracking. Please, don't let him be dead. Don't let him be dead! Tina could not imagine what she would do if Newt was gone. There would be no more creatures, no more of their little talks, no more... Newt.
Her anguished voice seemed to rouse him. Newt's eyes snapped open, and Tina let out a dry sob of relief. He was alive. But only just.
"Tina?" he whispered hoarsely.
The American witch nodded frantically, pushing down a wave of panic. "Newt–Dittany–"
Newt's breathing was scratchy and labored, and his bloodied chest was heaving unevenly, but he managed to rasp out, "In the shed–"
The shed was too far away to reach by foot. Tina whipped out her wand and shouted, "Accio Dittany!"
A little brown bottle zoomed toward her, and she caught it in her open palm. Hastily uncorking it, she looked down at Newt, who had closed his eyes again. Blood was dripping from his chest and down his extended arm, seeping into the earth underneath. His face was screwed up, and something inside Tina's heart cracked as she saw the amount of pain he must be in.
"Newt–I'm going to need to undo your shirt, okay?!" Tina said, her voice shaking.
Newt nodded, and then immediately winced afterward, the movement having caused him a fresh wave of pain. Blood was still flowing heavily from the clawmarks on his chest, and nearly all of his shirt was stained scarlet. He was jerking uncontrollably on the ground in spasms, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, and all Tina wanted to do was gather him up in her arms and have it all be over.
She set down the bottle of dittany, and reached out with fumbling fingers to undo the buttons on his shirt, which seemed to take an eternity. As she unbuttoned the last one, Newt's shirt opened up, and she gasped. His chest was crisscrossed in scars. Old, new, thick, thin, raised, jagged. They were spider-webbed all over his chest. Some had begun to fade away, some looked relatively new, although Tina could tell that the current one afflicted by the Nundu was by far the worst.
Wasting no time, Tina picked up the dittany again and uncorked the bottle. She hesitated as her hand holding the bottle hovered over Newt's chest. She knew it would hurt, and the last thing she wanted to do was cause Newt more agony, but what else was there to do?
Newt seemed to sense her hesitation, for he opened his eyes and blinked reassuringly at her through his pain, telling her to go on. He was panting now. Tina swallowed, and fought down the overwhelming sense of despair in her own chest. Her head throbbed with pulsating, burning, emotions as she tipped the bottle upside down, and squeezed several drops onto Newt's raw and bleeding wound. There was a hissing sound as the liquid hit flesh, and Newt flinched, his brow tightening, but he did not say anything. His whole face was shining with sweat, and his hands were clenched into tight fists. His body twitched, and he let out a brittle gasp.
Tina squeezed some more dittany out of the bottle, and again, there was a sizzling sound and it met the open scratches. A lump formed in her throat, making it seemingly impossible for her to watch. This time, Newt did not stay still. His arm jerked out and nearly hit Tina, and he let out a guttural scream. Tina felt as though her heart was being ripped out of her body, and she fought back a sob.
"It's okay Newt..." she whispered shakily, her voice laced with fear. "It's almost over Newt–hang on for me..."
Then, feeling sick with herself, she forced her hand to squeeze the bottle until the wound was fully healed. Newt's screams pierced through her like a blade of ice, and evertime he jerked or spasmed, she let out a sob of anguish. His breathing was harsh, and his beautiful green eyes opened and closed, darting around wildly.
Tina tried to reassure him, she wanted nothing more than for his suffering to stop. Reaching out, she took his hand in her own and gripped it tightly, ignoring the tear dripping down her cheek. Tina set the dittany down. She felt thoroughly disgusted with herself for having caused Newt such agony, and the overwhelming sense of fear was still flooding through every pore in her body. The wound was healing, but slowly. Newt's chest was still wet with blood, but the flow seemed to be ebbing.
"Newt," Tina whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry... I didn't want to cause you pain..."
She did not know if he could hear her, but he seemed to grow stiller at her voice. She let herself breathe again, letting go some of the choking fear and anguish.
"Newt..." she said softly again. Tina gazed at him, a whirlwind of emotions inside her. Another tear dripped down her chin, and she reached forward to gently brush Newt's hair away from his face. Her fingers grazed his skin, and it felt searingly hot. "Newt..." she repeated, willing him to open his eyes, to give her some sign that he was okay, that the worst was over, that she had not harmed him any further.
As if he had read her mind, Newt's eyes flickered open. Tina nearly screamed with relief, and her tears were flowing faster than ever, staining her blouse and blurring her vision.
"Tina..." Newt said weakly. "I–". He struggled to sit up.
"Shhh," Tina hushed, gently helping him up.
"Tina," Newt murmured, his voice thin, "Tina, thank you."
Tina wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She stared at him for a long moment before wrapping her arms around him. She heard him let out a content sigh as he leaned against her, breathing slowly.
"It's okay, Newt," she whispered, gathering him close and rocking back and forth with him. "I've got you. I've got you, Newt."